Entry by Ty Spaulding
This Phnom Penh landmark is located on an unlit side street. It is not easy to find. The taxi motorcyclists on the sidewalk eye your entrance as you’ve had your ticket stamped by the devil. You climb up a decrepit set of stairs, which look like the Khmer Rouge might have executed cadres against the walls. The second floor door is double-bolted. A knock opens it. The main room is a bar about the size of a Holiday Inn suite. Only there’s no bed, just six stools and a few tables.
But no one visits Sophie’s for the decor.
The flimsy attired girls are 18-30. They number around twenty in the early evening. The attire is flimsy. Young and old, beautiful and ugly. Something for everyone’s taste. They swear to be Khmer and not Vietnamese, as if working at Sophie’s fulfills a patriotic duty.
Once inside the red-lit bar four hostesses will seat you before auditioning to star in a remake of DEEPTHROAT. Your permission is not asked. Resistance is futile.
At this point the old hag behind the bar asks if you want a drink.
You order a bottle of beer, because you can’t tell who’s been drinking out of the glasses.
The male clientele are NGO pervs fighting off a heroin habit, incurable drunks, balding sex tourists on a Viagra binge, Euro-trash libertines, and missionaries seeking to save souls somewhere other than Sophie?s.
You exchange glances. This is a very compromising situation and you check the ceiling for VDO cameras to make sure you aren?t being spied on by the NSA or worst your friends porno surfing the net.
I couldn’t find any.
About two minutes after your first breath in Sophie?s (the smell of cigarettes, cheap liquor, and man sweat) the girls break their crotch huddle and ask who you thought was best and do you want to retire to a side room for more research.
As sinful as it may seem, saying no was more damnable than saying yes. Two or three girls will drag into a back room, where you will be their darling for however long it takes. The shabby rooms are decorated with cracked walls and soiled sheets to maintain the atmosphere. You can hold conversation with your friend in the next room or at the bar. The walls are thin as cheap pizza and almost as greasy.
The menage-a-trois cost $20 and beers at $2 are the price for your soul. Eternal damnation.